


Date Night

by izazaa (crazyground)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyground/pseuds/izazaa
Summary: Spy attempts to seduce Sniper as an ill-advised game, and it backfires spectacularly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> new fan and first fic in this fandom -- hello!
> 
> now betaread by [varjoaika](http://varjoaika.tumblr.com/)!

It started like this:

When Spy flicked open his silver cigarette case, it was empty. He'd smoked through the entire thing during the day's shit mission, trying to ease his agitation, which didn't work. Then he'd tried to extinguish his agitation in Sniper's bed, taking it out on the man until he was gasping and writhing and bucking into every furious thrust, and _that_ had almost worked, but now, deprived of his post-coital cigarette... With an awful scowl, he snapped it shut, and chucked it across the camper van.

Beside him, Sniper jolted at the crack it made against the back of the driver's seat. He propped himself up on his elbows, and raised an eyebrow at Spy with this almost fond smirk. Before Spy could kick him for it, he reached for the small chest by the head of his mattress, and rummaging past condoms and his spare pair of sunglasses, plucked out a slightly squashed carton.

Spy was about to reject them, but then he noticed that the box was longer than that cheap crap that Sniper smoked. In fact, it looked like his own preferred brand, and a new, unopened pack at that. He stared at it, confused.

Sniper noticed, and shrugged. "You get tetchy without them," he explained.

Spy narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue. Snatching it, he tapped out a stick, and brought it to his mouth. It smelt stale, but only slightly; how long ago had Sniper bought them for him? Since when had he been so confident that Spy would return to his bed?

"You gonna smoke that in here?" Sniper sighed when Spy responded by flicking open his lighter, then reached over and shoved the alcove's small window open. Cool desert air rushed in. Sniper shivered, but only grunted, "Close it when you're done." Then, shivering more violently, Sniper looped an arm around Spy's waist and curled up against him, head pillowed on his chest.

Slowly and cautiously, Spy lit his cigarette, mindful of Sniper who was, Spy suspected, _cuddling_ him. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, turned his head, and blew it out of the window. The smoke calmed his bewilderment somewhat. As he tapped the ash off on the window's ledge, his other hand... hovered awkwardly above Sniper's shoulders.

This wasn't what he expected when he barged through Sniper's door for another roll in the sheets. What they had was an arrangement of convenience and stress relief between two hardened killers who very much did not _cuddle_.

It wasn't long before Sniper shivered again, and goose bumps started to prickle his skin. Australians and their over baked outback. Spy rolled his eyes, but tugged the blanket higher over Sniper's back. In his exasperation, he forgot his reservations and pressed the length of his arm against Sniper's shoulders, letting the bushman leech some of his body heat. Sniper snuffled gently in his sleep, and then the bastard burrowed even closer.

Spy frowned down disapprovingly at him. He took another heady drag, then let the smoke drift out from between his parted lips. Perhaps he was reading too much into this, and it was only Sniper's animal instincts and self-preservation to cling onto the nearest heat source.

... Or perhaps he was reading exactly enough into this, and Sniper had gone and done something as stupid as developing _feelings_ for him. Not that Spy could blame him for having excellent taste in men, but he'd gone out of his way to proposition the most _professional_ of his teammates to prevent precisely this from happening.

By the time he finished his smoke, he was no closer to figuring his predicament out. He hesitated just leaving like that, but Sniper was in no shape to harangue into an interrogation, so after shutting the window, he slid out from under him. True enough, when jostled, Sniper only muttered incoherently, and nipped the jut of his hip grumpily. Spy raked a hand through Sniper's hair to settle him, then went to fetch his clothes and that blasted silver case

One hand on the door handle, Spy gave Sniper's sleeping form one last perplexed glance, and then slunk back out into the night.

 

 

* * *

 

And then it happened again.

Spy should've taken precautions to avoid Sniper's van, but parked a distance away from the main base and blocked from view by the water tower, it was the most convenient choice. And he never could resist the post-coital smoke, although he remembered his own cigarettes this time. _And_ , he supposed, after two rounds on his hands and knees, he could hardly fault Sniper for drowsing. Though his body was a warm press against Spy's side, at least he kept his hands to himself this time.

Just one cigarette, and then he would leave before anything unpleasant happened. Before he could sit up, however, Sniper groaned suddenly. It was soft, but echoed in the still night. He shifted in his sleep, and his erection dug into Spy's thigh.

... Rude, but much more preferable to cuddling. He resolved to ignore it, let the man suffer in his sleep. However, Sniper turned, and dragged a leg over Spy's thigh, rubbing against him in small, needy motions, breath coming in little hot huffs against Spy's hip. It was so unlike how he was when he was awake, and gruff, and demanding. Contemplatively, Spy skirted his fingers lightly along the length of Sniper's cock, and was rewarded with a moan. Spy's own cock twitched in response, and soon, Sniper's grinding drew it half hard.

He usually wouldn't have any compunction against shaking him awake to scratch an itch, but with the recent turn of events, he felt like he shouldn't take more than was offered. Was it bad taste to burrow a sleeping man's body to get off? Probably – no, _definitely_ , and illegal to boot. Had he enough control to leave dissatisfied? Of course, but –

Abruptly, Sniper groaned, and grew terse around him. "Spook," he growled, voice wonderfully rough with need, "don't tease."

Decision made for him, Spy rolled over to drag Sniper onto his side. Sniper cupped the back of his head and tucked it beneath his chin, while his other hand glided between them to rub their cocks together. It didn't take long for their shameless rutting to tip them over the edge, gasping and arching against the other man.

After which he meant to retreat back to his room, honest to god, but he also wasn't as young and spritely as he once was, and after a day of running around dodging rockets, three rounds a night was pushing it. His eyelids were drooping heavily even before Sniper slung an arm around his chest, and pushed his face into Spy's throat.

They were in the same position when Spy woke up, Sniper's breathing tickling Spy's neck, leg curled across him. And Spy, worryingly, had an arm around his waist. Grouchy, he extracted himself purposely clumsy, elbowing Sniper in the ribs. Blatantly ignoring Sniper's grousing, he pulled on his clothes from the night before, then slammed the door as he left.

 

 

* * *

 

By the end of the following mission, Spy had come to conclusion that he'd been careless in letting Sniper cuddle him at all, which had set a precedence for more... _More_. It was a mistake he would not repeat. He began to avoid Sniper, skipping breakfast, and taking dinner with Pauling, who shot him puzzled glances but let him buy her alcohol anyway.

The rest of the week passed in the same sort of malaise. And Sniper, naturally, refused to cooperate. He dropped down next to Spy at the breakfast table like he was _meant_ to be next to him, then made fun of how much milk Spy put in his coffee. Just before the mission started, Sniper blithely ignored him to humour Scout's obnoxious bragging, but touched the small of his back when he jogged past into the battlefield, just light enough not to disturb his cloak.

The fact that Sniper could track him when he was cloaked, down to the inch, to pat him, was almost as concerning as the fact that he felt the need to pat him at all. And worse yet, his back tingled warmly until he got backstabbed by the enemy spy.

So he took his efforts to the battlefield as well, going in the opposite direction as Sniper and prowling the opposite end of the map instead. When that only put him in perfect view of Sniper's scope, and enemies started losing their heads to fine red mist around him, he changed tactics and lurked in the lower levels of Sniper's post instead, so the BLU team never reached Sniper, Sniper's proficiency increased. And after _that_ , when Sniper started to get a big head about his score, Spy even let the enemy Spy slip past him once or twice, pretending not to know that he was headed to his sniping post.

They were convoluted, roundabout methods of avoiding Sniper, but at least he got the point. Spy's bed saw more use than it had in the past month.

He was just getting the hang of avoiding Sniper like the plague, when Sniper, again, the uncooperative _bastard_ , cornered him when he returned from dinner with Heavy. Eyeing the two of them, Heavy thumped him once on the shoulder, and then stomped away, leaving him alone with Sniper.

Spy turned on his heel to flee, but Sniper grabbed his arm. He tensed defensively, and Sniper flinched back as if burned. Spy's eyebrows furrowed; he had expected more of a fight. "What?"

"Alright, I get it already," Sniper said, unaware of the confusion he was causing Spy again. "Interrupting your beauty sleep for a wank off is strictly off limits."

"What?" Spy repeated, baffled.

"Looked like you had fun too but. I guess you weren't all awake or somethin'." Sniper winced, and held up his hands in surrender. He bit out, "Sorry. I won't do it again."

The apology stunned him for a few moments. Only then did Spy realise that there had been a misunderstanding, and Sniper had gotten it in his head that he'd... Forced himself on him, something to that effect. Spy groaned internally; while he didn't want to explain himself, it wasn't the sort of misunderstanding he would let stand.

"You won't do it _again_." he ground out, "because you hadn't done it"

Startled, Sniper peered at him over his glasses. "I didn't?"

"The labourer almost ran into on the way back. That was all," he lied. And because Sniper didn't look particularly convinced, he added, "I did, as you put it, have fun." Immediately, he regretted it. The way Sniper brightened was the worst thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh! _That_ , I can fix," Sniper leered. "Your room tonight?"

Spy was perplexed to hear himself agreeing.

 

 

* * *

 

The move to Spy's room had been a good idea. For one, they took good advantage of the extra space. He didn't expect how fond he'd be of Sniper on his back, legs hooked on his shoulder and around his waist, giving Spy a lovely view of him panting and quivering around his cock. And the way that he reached up for him to jam their mouths together as he came apart...

Anyway, the fact was, sex was a safe, familiar territory that gave him back a bit of confidence. His score on the battlefield recovered, while Sniper's climbed to new ranks, obvious by the number of heads that pop, and even more obvious by the number of piss soaked enemies.

He had been wrong all this time, and Sniper was just an idiot, Spy told himself as he dodged the BLU Heavy, reeking of piss. When the Medic followed, he snatched him with a knife in his back and a hand over his mouth to muffle his gurgling death. His team would take care of the Heavy easily now that the brute was alone.

A dense idiot who only happened to trip romantic gestures by accident, he decided, disguising as the BLU Medic to waltz into enemy territory, pretending to be searching for a medikit. He could spread himself naked across that awful mattress in the van, and scatter rose petals suggestively across his lap – all that romance would just bounce right off his horse shaped head.

A dense, oblivious idiot who wouldn't know romance if it stabbed him in the back. And... Spy liked stabbing people in the back, didn't he? It wasn't that Spy wanted to date the filthy jar man, but he wanted to push his luck, see how far he could get with him before he noticed something was up. Despite how capable Sniper prided himself of being on the field, he was actually a lot younger than his beef jerky face suggested, and spent his formative years in the outback; Spy imagined he would get very far indeed.

When a stray pipe bomb ricocheted towards  him and sent him through respawn, he wasn't even upset. It had been ages since he'd done anything sneakier than infiltrating the enemy base; Spy resolved to have his fun.

 

 

* * *

 

Spy started small, with a hand on Sniper's thigh at breakfast, Sniper choked on his tar black coffee, and Spy had to hide his laughter in his café au latte watching him wave off Medic's query with a red face. Hilarious – Spy dragged his hand further along his thigh, thumb running along his inseam.

This earned him a jerk off in the janitor's closet twenty minutes before the day's mission. It was quick and filthy, and nothing near romantic, although the next day it seemed that Pyro had caught them – they were leaning against the closet door as they walked past, crossing his arms at Sniper's reddened cheeks then garbling indignantly when Spy met their gaze firmly through their mask, and smirked. This didn't faze him one bit, perhaps even helped his reputation as a wily debonair.

This was what espionage was all about, playing a role and pushing and pushing until the other person reacts the way he wants them too, manipulating people into becoming assets for his false identity, not this running around in a ski mask killing people indiscriminately. Spy felt pretty good about this new side mission of his.

His next opportunity came when they ended up in Sniper's van with Spy staying over by accident yet again. But while he was here, he might as well have some fun.

He had pilfered some coffee and was brewing a pot on the stove, clad only in Sniper's shirt, when Sniper clambered down the ladder, yawning loudly. The back of Spy's neck burned, and he hunched as though he could make the glaring red shirt less noticeable. This was too obvious, Spy realised as he made his coffee without looking up. However, Sniper shuffled right past him to the sink, to start his morning routine.

Spy stared. Not even a word? It was unlike the assassin to be so unobservant, and even more so to miss the opportunity to make snide remarks. Or perhaps he really didn't think anything of this... _domestic_ situation. He'd only been in this position a handful times in his life, and half of them involved his fake identities rather than him. The other half, well, he ended up killing her son on a regular basis, so perhaps he's fated to doomed liaisons, and sharing this moment with Sniper isn't that surprising after all.

Spy had almost counted it a victory, when Sniper shuffled into his personal space, draped against his side, and pressed a kiss to his temple. He froze, every muscle going stiff.

"... What?" Sniper squinted at him, bleary with sleep, then leaned across him to snag his mug of coffee.

Spy scrambled for an excuse. "Don't drip on me," he chided, half hearted, then stirred his own coffee furiously until Sniper left to sit at the small table. Eventually, he turned around, but unwilling to sit at the table with Sniper, he perched against the counter instead, and peered at him over his own mug.

Sniper's head was down on the table, face hidden in the cradle of his arms. His shoulders heaved once – A composing breath? Another yawn? It might've been the steam, but Spy though the tips of Sniper's ears were rather red. When Sniper straightened, however, stretching out lethargically and scrubbing a hand over his face, there wasn't a hint of embarrassment in his expression, nor any discomfort in his voice when Sniper blinked up at him, and asked, "Breakfast?"

 

 

* * *

 

There was a horrible retching sound, an exhaust pipe backfiring, then the sorriest car Spy had ever seen – riddled with bullet holes, glass shattered, a tire punctured, the roof ripped off in its entirety – pulled up by the diner at the fringe of Teufort. And then the sorriest Sniper he had ever seen outside of the battlefield spilt out of that car.

They (he'd just had dinner with Pauling) watched him silently for a moment, quite like one would watch a train wreck, before Sniper noticed them, and narrowed his eyes through frames that were missing their lenses.

" _Miss Pauling_ ," he growled, trudging over like a particularly ominous zombie, "I think your mission brief _might have missed_ a few details."

Pauling winced, though it was more sheepish than fearful. "Like… the reward that doubled your pay for this mission?"

Sniper stared at her with dead eyes, then dragged them over to the destroyed car, then down the long, long stretch of road towards the RED base.

"And!" She raised her clipboard like a shield in front of her, peering over its clasp. "And you get a ride back to base from your good friend, Spy!"

There was a strange note in her voice when she said _friend_ , one that Spy couldn't quite place. He eyed her suspiciously, but when she turned to him with wide, hopeful eyes, he sighed, and only said, "He'll bleed on my seats."

Very slowly, Sniper raised a hand to flip him off, but Pauling grabbed his wrist and pulled him over towards Spy, practically shoving him at him. Then she danced away when Sniper made a halfhearted swipe at her, waving to them cheerfully as she retreated to her scooter.

Sniper sighed as they watched her flee, and then turned to Spy, regarding Spy with a look that was both wary and expectant. What the hell, Spy decided, Sniper looked like he could do with some pity.

"Do you require sustenance? There are only rations at the base." Spy waited a beat, then rolled his eyes when Sniper took too long to process his words. "Come on. Let's get you dinner. My treat."

The greasy diner food, greasy burger and thick cut fries, did wonders for him, but it was only after dessert and its sugary boost of energy that Sniper began to regain some semblance of life. He dropped his spoon into his sundae glass, and sank back into the cushioned booth, groaning.

"Bad mission?" Spy asked mildly.

Sniper scowled at him. "It was supposed to kill one crime syndicate heir, not her whole bloody extended family."

"Ah. I heard of it. The Burakovskies? It's almost impossible to believe you managed to get close enough to take her down in the first place."

Sniper smirked suddenly. "I was her type."

Spy stiffened in his seat. If Sniper thought he was in any position to make Spy jealous, he was sorely mistaken. He retorted, "And it will be equally unbelievable when you manage to get to base _by yourself ._  Goodbye." Spy planted his hands on the table, meaning to slide away, but Sniper caught his wrist hastily.

"Joking, just joking!" He stretched out, grimacing as his bones clicked, and his knee bumped into Spy's under the table. "This wouldn't've happened if they let me drive my camper."

There was a whine creeping into his voice and hell if Spy didn't find it endearing on the usually stoic assassin. Spy hid his smirk in coffee and sat back down, their knees bumping together under the table.

 

 

* * *

 

With his successes, Spy's attempts only escalated.

Attempts 4 and 5 involved sunsets. One occurred in the watchtower during the humiliation round; Spy was missing an arm and Sniper was slowly bleeding out, but they were slumped against each other and the view was very nice from up there. The other, on the roof of his van, almost intimate despite the rest of the crew clamouring around the campfire beneath them.

Attempt 6 was a candlelit dinner, except it was awful rations around a dying fire, and for dessert, Spy allowed Sniper to spread him out on the table in his van.

He didn't even notice attempt 7 was happening, until he hissed to the end of a colourful rant over BLU's new Engineer and Pyro team up, then realised he was reclining against Sniper's back. The shifting of his muscles as he sharpened his kukri was inexplicably calming. Except he'd been sharpening his kukri for a good hour now, and seemed well inclined to sit on the doorstep of his camper in the hot sun, to let Spy complain to his heart's content.

There was an odd tickling in his chest, a feeling very similar to how this all started, that night where Sniper lay sprawled across his chest and Spy hadn't known what to do with his hands. Spy lolled his head back on Sniper's shoulder, unseeing eyes trained on the ceiling. Sniper turned to at his sudden quiet, so Spy kissed his temple, to appease his suspicion and make him turn back. Then he froze.

That tickling in his chest had turned into full on churning. The inner hilarity was beginning to choke him – and it had to be hilarity, because it certainly wasn't nerves or anything that had his heart beating faster when he lured Sniper into these near romantic situations. At least, he had _thought_ so these past few weeks, but now he wasn't so sure. He had begun to lose sight of the goal.

Abruptly, he stood, dislodging Sniper's warmth, and clambered over him. He needed a smoke, but more than that, he had to escape the cloistered camper.

"Spook?" The guileless concern in Sniper voice irked him and he stalked off without turning back. Spy didn't turn around, only waved him off with his cigarette.

 

 

* * *

 

If his team caught onto his recent temper, they did not show it, only gave him a wider berth off the battlefield. Sniper of course had no such reserve. The man was obnoxiously persistent in hunting him down, probably the only person on base who could search him out when he didn't want to be found.

When Sniper proved too talented at 'accidentally' wandering upon him in secluded corners of the base, Spy finally retreated to the kitchen, drinking coffee and perusing paperwork written in coded French. The others had cleared out – he could hear them making a racket in the yard, a fire cackling, punctuated by sharp bursts of obnoxious laughter – but Spy had hoped that being in an open space would dissuade Sniper from approaching. Then Sniper approached him, with a plate of only slightly burnt barbecued meats, offering it to him in a tone that sounded _worried,_ of all things, that Spy would miss dinner.

"Careful now, or I'd start to think you have –" he scrunched his face in distaste "– _feelings_ for me."

"Well, _obviously_ I do," Sniper snapped, "but that don't mean I'm gonna put up with your –"

Spy interrupted, _"What?"_

"What?" Whatever expression Spy's got on has Sniper frowning hard, less angry, more suspicious, and a little bit concerned. "What's wrong?"

"You have _feelings_ for me?" Spy demanded, mouth puckering around the F-word like it's something offensively sour. He really hadn't wanted to ask, but there it was, out in the open. However Sniper responded would change things, and permanently; the world around him stilled as he waited for the answer.

Sniper didn't seem to take this nearly as gravely as the situation calls for, and in an obtuse misinterpretation of Spy's words, blustered, "Yes? I mean, they're angry feelings now but –"

No, Spy realised in horror, in a _wilful_ misinterpretation of Spy's words because Sniper was turning red at his surreptitious confession. Whatever else Sniper said was lost to the rushing of blood in Spy's ears. He had, he realised dimly, made a terrible mistake, and muttered, " _Merde_."

"I was just following your lead! All the –" Frustrated, Sniper dropped the plate onto the table with a loud clatter, and plucked at his sleeve. There was a burn there; Spy realised it was the one he had worn, and carelessly dropped his ash onto. "All those _things_ that you did!"

"You never seemed to notice! So I was – _curious_ , how far I could take it."

Sniper's expression darkened at once. "So what, this was all just a – some sort of _game_ to you?"

The answer must have been clear on his face, because Sniper seized his collar, and pulled back his fist. Spy gritted his teeth on instinct but the punch never came. When he opened his eyes, Sniper was frowning and looking down between them.

Confused, Spy looked down as well, past the gloved fist clenched so tight the leather creaks, down to his sadly torn shirt, and his arms... were just dangling uselessly by his side, as if he'd given up all defences. Sniper was looking his knife, it dawned to Spy, his trademark, even when cornered, Spy always takes his attacker down with him. He wielded it on instinct, without having to think. He didn't do it this time.

Sniper punched him in the jaw, and the bruising force of it hurled him to the floor, head hitting the tiles. The world span as he sagged, clutching the back of his head. And still, he did not reach for his knife.

This only infuriated Sniper further. "Well?!" He demanded, looming over him. "Aren't you gonna fight back, you cowardly snake?!"

Something like ruin must have shown in his eyes, because Sniper flinched suddenly, and took a step back.

"I have to go," Spy mumbled faintly. He was already stumbling to his feet as he reached for his Invis watch, so Sniper's searching fingers only grazed his sleeve as he fled.

 

 

* * *

 

As luck would have it, a series of missions whisked both of them away in separate directions shortly after, so he was left alone to brood in peace, but even the exhilaration of permanent deaths under his knife could not cheer him up.

When they did happen to be on base at the same time, Spy found to his immense relief that Sniper's fury had abated. It was as though the weeks, and the months, had never happened, and Sniper treated him with a cold professionalism worse than when they first started working together. Along with the sex, all the snide jabs and friendly rivalry had all been flung out the window.

Since theirs was a secret arrangement, it shouldn't have appeared like anything had changed between them, and their teammates would be none the wiser how gravely he had fucked up. Spy did not recall them ever spending much time together that weren't sneaky rendezvous under the cover of the night, had worked to make sure they were never affectionate in public even while he played his ill-thought game, and gave him a professional berth during team get togethers. Nothing had changed except that they were no longer taking tumbles in the sheets together. There shouldn't be anything amiss, and yet – not only have their teammates clearly noticed that something's amiss, worse still, they'd unanimously decided it was Spy's fault.

At first, Spy didn't take much note of the way Scout's flipping him off more than usual, Pyro shaking his fist violently at him when they cross paths. Ignored it easily enough when the Heavy Medic pair made a habit of turning to frown at him in unison every time he entered a room. And he'd never understood much of Demo and Soldier's rambling anyway.

Then Engineer ambushed him in the hallway, as he was coming in fresh from a mission. His Gunslinger snatched his wrist, and slammed it to the wall so forcefully that the paint cracked beneath its metal fingers.

"Labourer," Spy drawled, wriggling his wrist against its restraint. Sharp pain raced up his arm. It felt like a fracture, at very least. "To what do I owe this honour?"

Engineer didn't even glance at the blade Spy had managed to draw his balisong and dig its tip into his stomach. "I know he can take care of himself, but that don't mean I'll let you get away with this."

"With _what_?" Spy demanded, stubbornly. There wasn't enough space to swing blade, and he wasn't sure  if he had any strength left after the mission to slice through Engineer's thick overalls to disembowel him. Maybe if he –

Out of the blue, instead of answering his question, Engineer said, "Sniper's on a mission and out of respawn's reach, but he's disappeared off radar," then grunted when Spy went rigid. "We're short on men so only Medic's been sent to extract him, at least he'd know how to piece what's left of him back together."

"Where?" Spy demanded. His mind kept repeating back at him, _out of respawn's reach_.

"Here, I'll show you a short cut." Then Engineer let go of his wrist, then seized his neck, and snapped it.

 

 

* * *

 

Medic was waiting for him when he respawned across the base, physically healed from the toll of his last mission, but mentally exhausted. They sped off in an awful RED Bread van that Spy would not otherwise have tolerated.

Although Medic was chilly at first, he soon warmed with the excitement of being sent off base. He chattered on excitedly as he filled Spy in on the details – Sniper had been ambushed by another crime syndicate, upset that the Burakovskies, its business partner, had lost its entire upper management to a lone gunman. Sniper's communication had died at a gas station en route to the base, his pursuers hot on his heels.

The gas station wasn't exactly trawling with goons when they arrived, but there were enough of them to make Spy and Medic cautious. Neither of them nor Sniper were good with big crowds. They would have to do this carefully. Before they pulled into the gas station, Spy disguised himself as Heavy.

"Follow my lead," he whispered to Medic, and then as he exited the car, rumbled in Heavy's gruff voice at the suspicious henchmen, "I come to kill gunman. Where is he?"

The leader of the lot, heavily scarred and armed with a hefty pistol, regarded him dubiously, but seemed to be taken in by Heavy's dull-seeming visage. Waving off his unsure subordinates, he led them the backroom of the gas station, where they had lost sight of the gunman. It was a dead end, or so the man informed them.

Sniper always had a penchant for high placed, and when Spy peeked up discreetly, there he was, tucked on the high shelf in the impossibly narrow space between two boxes. Spy ignored the way his breath stuttered as he locked gazes with Sniper for the briefest of seconds. It was more important, probably, that Sniper had jerked his head towards a backdoor hidden by cartons of Bonk!.

"Much obliged," said Spy with almost genuine gratitude, and then slit the leader's neck, and shoved his body aside.

As soon as the door shut, Sniper rasped weakly, "What are you doing here?"

"Am I not still wearing red?" Spy shot back, catching Sniper as he dropped down from the shelf. Sniper sagged heavily against him and swayed dangerously. It quickly became apparent why; he was missing his left leg and his shirt that he'd wrapped around what remained of his thigh was soaked through.

"Got caught in an explosion," Sniper wheezed as he sank to the floor.

"That's an excellent tourniquet!" Medic complimented, as he crouched next to Sniper and prodded at his stump. As he set to work with his Medi Gun to regrow a new leg for Sniper, however, they heard the henchmen calling for their dead boss, voices laced with hostility.

"No time for that!" Sniper groaned.

Someone hammered on the door, and then there was shouting. Spy paused in clearing the back door, and glanced down at Sniper, but he had only regrown his knee so far, and his calf was only partially formed. It seemed like they would have to drag Sniper back to the van without his leg, and hope he didn't bleed out along the way – but would Spy risk it? Sniper had been there a good hour, and his face was ghostly pale; Spy cursed and vanished in an angry swirl of crimson smoke.

"Then I'll buy some." Before either of his teammates could protest, Spy had slipped out of the backdoor. As he shot the first goon in the head, his colleague shouted, and soon the lot of them were rushing to the back of the gas station, leaving the route to the van clear. Spy's distraction went exactly as planned, now all he had to do was survive it.

He fought a ferocious whirlwind of slashing blade and red smoke, slipping in and out of sight. Soon however, the enemies began to overwhelm him with sheer number, and their attacks were making contact. Spy resorted to using his Cloak and Dagger not to disappear, but for the smoke that distracted the enemy and blocked their vision, even as his was clouded with blood spilling from his forehead. Blinded in one eye, he missed the attacker coming from that side, swinging a knife, and the blade tore through his waist. Enraged, Spy spun round and stabbed him though his eye, plunging his blade deep, but it was too late. He could feel his organs squelching out of the gaping wound.

Just as he was about to fall, Medic swung in out of nowhere, grabbed him and off they went, dashing towards the van. At very least, Spy thought as he clutched his torso to stopper any important internal organs from falling out, Sniper was putting his new leg to good use, stepping at the gas pedal and racing to towards them. Medic hurtled into the back of the van, hauling Spy along with him, and then they were speeding away from the gas station.

Thus; Sniper driving their battered van back to base, while Medic cradled Spy in the back, keeping his large intestines from spilling out of the yawning hole in his side. Sniper's leg had used up all the juice his Medi Gun had, and with the absence of any ammo packs, he was left with only traditional methods of first aid.

Medic yelped as the van juddered over a particularly deep pothole. "What's the rush, Herr Sniper? We will be back in respawn range before he bleeds out!" Medic glanced down at Spy, grinning as though Spy was a science experiment. "Probably!"

Before Spy could respond, Sniper roared from the front, "Probably?!"

"Come now, my friend! You were in much worse shape! This is a fair trade, don't you think?" As Medic peered down at him, Spy could feel his beady little eyes assessing him, the same way he once did at Spy's first medical, only to sigh and say, no, too heavy a smoker, he wouldn't be worth much even if Medic did harvest his organs. "More or less."

Sniper growled a response that was lost to the wind, as he stepped down on the pedal and the van leapt down the road.

Between them, Spy frothed blood and spit. Even torn open, he still couldn't catch a break. And despite himself, Spy was a little offended. He hadn't noticed _Sniper_ being pulled aside and threatened for his dignity, nor _his_ impending, permanent death made a fool of.

Sure he was a spy, at least a decade older, worked alongside the illegitimate son who loathed him for walking out on his mother, and made a living killing said son's exact double without any moral compunction – but it wasn't like he didn't have _feelings_. In general, of course, the feelings he has _in general_ as a living, breathing human being, nothing to do with the _Feelings_ he might have for Sniper, which he resolutely did not.

Spy stopped himself there to choke on bloody phlegm that had slid down the wrong pipe – above him, Medic thumped him on back, then waved Sniper off when he twisted round to see – then he choked again when he started to laugh.

Spy always knew his audacity to lie was amazing, but going through all this effort while bleeding out in the back of an ugly van, driven by a man he'd jilted and _regretted_ for once, to lie to _himself_ was astounding. As though he would be so reckless for any other member – save for Scout, though that was an entirely different can of worms.

He had made, Spy realised dimly as the world blurred, a far more terrible mistake that he'd thought.

 

 

* * *

 

Out of necessity, Spy spent the night in the sick bay, but slipped away as soon as he could. When he realised his restless pacing was leading him to Sniper's camper, he did not resist, even though it was already well into the afternoon, bright enough that anyone could spot him. And sure enough, he ran into Scout on the way there, who flipped him off as they crossed paths.

When he reached the camper, however, Spy didn't have any idea what to do. The paint chipped door wasn't giving him any clues, so rather than just stand there staring, he took out a cigarette.

The door opened before he could light it. Spy looked up, and at the sight of Sniper's face glowering at him, haggard and flushed with blood that was no longer spilling out of him, his heart skipped a beat.

"The labourer broke my neck because of you." Spy added, as an afterthought, "I also saved your life, at the risk of mine."

"If you wanted an apology, or, or _gratitude_ –"

Spy couldn't help but snort. "Even _I_ wouldn't dare."

"Then out with it! You have five seconds before I'm kicking you out," Sniper snarled.

Spy straightened, the lines of his suit sharpening – and then he stopped, uncertain. His mind had gone inexplicably blank of all his usual lies. When as promised Sniper tried to slam the door shut, Spy panicked and rushed to stop the door. Sniper growled, and shouldered the door shut with a loud bang, sending Spy tumbling back. Spy caught himself before he fell completely; his mind might've been a mess but at least his instincts hadn't failed him.

Unfortunately, this was as far as his instincts could help him, because they were currently telling him to run – better yet, insult Sniper with something wicked and merciless, _and then_ run – but he didn't want to. It was a new feeling, wanting to be honest. He'd be damned if he could figure out what he was trying to be honest about, however.

"I don't understand you," he blurted out, but that was a lie. Sniper was straightforward, and easy to understand, right down to his overcompensating professionalism and stubborn filial piety. He corrected himself – "I don't understand what you're doing to me."

"Don't you pin this on me," Sniper spat back, but Spy could see his ire was already draining. Slumping against the door frame, Sniper sighed and glowered at him. "You're the one who started this and we both know it."

Spy felt his hackles rising, but he grit his teeth and said instead, "You're right. I wanted to –" He faltered. "I _wanted_ , but I didn't know what I wanted, and I thought it would be easier to pass it off as a game."

At that last word, Sniper stiffened. "It was never a game."

"I am only realising this now!" Spy snapped.

Sniper shot him an incredulous look – as if Spy was the one who had any right to be indignant – but swallowed it, and continued, "Why is that?"

Spy stared at him blankly, He had expected Sniper to force him to swallow his pride and apologise. In fact, he would've vastly preferred to this.

"I only realized now that…" As he waved vaguely them grasping for words, it occurred to Spy then how they were positioned; Sniper in the safety of his camper, and he outside in the sprawling sand, under the sweltering sun, exposed and vulnerable. Spy felt abruptly like a gazelle being watched from the shrubs by a predator.  

"That?" Sniper demanded. He wasn't letting up, and Spy knew he was well within his rights not to. "Say it, you asshole."

It was too hot, under the scorching sun, and too bright. His collar grew tight around his neck, and he could scarcely see properly in the glaring sunlight. But beyond that, there was that awful thing in his chest again, squirming and clawing its way up his throat. Finally, he ground out, "I… like you.

A tense silence unfolded between them. Just as Spy shifted on his feet, about to escape, Sniper let out a sudden bark of harsh laughter and told him, "I like you too."

This was somehow even worse than his own confession. What terrified Spy most was how utterly relieved he felt to hear it, how his heart expanded like it was about to burst. He could feel himself reddening under his mask in a way that only happened during sex or if he had to talk about feelings. which was why he never talked feelings, which was why talking about feelings now was a mistake that he had to – 

"Oh no you don't!" As if Sniper could sense his panic, he reached out and snagged his wrist, but he didn't use any strength. It wasn't a shackle, Spy had to tell himself. Sniper gave him a light tug, drawing him nearer and into the shade of the camper's door, then let him go. He sighed as Spy eyed him warily. "It wasn't a game, but that don't mean it had to be serious either."

"I… do not follow."

"Look, I ain't asking you for anything." Sniper frowned down between them, but when he looked up, there was the slightest glimmer in his eyes. "Just – promise you won't play with my feelings again."

"Of course," Spy replied quickly, and then his brow furrowed, and he started to say, "but beyond that, I cannot," then had to stop. He could not what? Give him anything? Act as mysterious and rich as he might, there was very little of him he could offer. Not his time nor devotion, not his name, not his face. If he had wanted to play house and have his profession, his _identity_ , make him feel inadequate, there were a number of people more deserving, Scout's mother of that list.  

"You think too much." Sniper clicked his tongue, and looking more exasperated than angry now. "I just said I ain't asking you for shit! all those… those things from before that you did – it was _nice_ ," his cheeks coloured but he powered through, "all that relationship crap. But it's not like I _need_ any of that. I'm not asking for anything you're not offering." Sniper raked a hand through his hair. "I know what you're like."

What Spy was like. He didn't mean it as an accusation – Sniper's cruelty was refreshingly straight forward like that, cut tendons, fractured skull, a blade that hacked and carved instead of neatly severing – but Spy heard it as one anyway.

"I know what you're like," Sniper repeated, "and I like you anyway." He pulled a face. "I might even like you _because_ I know what you're like."

"Bad taste you've got there," Spy managed to choke out.

Sniper shrugged. "I'm a simple man with simple needs. I don't care about the past or the future. All I want is you, here and now."

It was too good to believe. It was all too much. Spy was at a loss how to respond.

Sniper watched him for one long moment, then quirked the corner of his mouth up, and jerked his head towards the inside of his van. Hesitating only slightly, Spy followed. As soon as the door shut behind him, Sniper shucked his hat off, and then started peeling off his shirt. Surprised, Spy's hands strayed towards his own jacket automatically. Then he paused, unsure if it really was an invitation.

All was made clear when Sniper stripped off his undershirt. He must have avoided respawn the entire week, because there were still traces of Spy spread across his chest and up his neck. Though they were fading, the red bite marks and yellowing bruises were littered across his dark skin was undeniable. And when Sniper twisted around to show off his back, scabbing scratches spread out across his shoulder blades like wings.

"Ah." There was once a time Spy had insisted that Sniper not leave any marks, and though Sniper didn't mind either way, Spy had resisted marking him in return. Spy tried to sound guilty but his expression was anything but.  His eyes darkened as they roamed across the expanse of Sniper's marked skin. They looked like they belong on him as much as the other battle scars spread across him. "I hadn't realised."

"No kidding. Lemme make it easy for you." Sniper grinned, feral. He yanked Spy's shirt out from the hem of his trousers, then slid a hand underneath, palming along his torso until he found the scar left from the rescue mission. Spy shuddered as his fingertips skittered across the raised tissue, then again when Sniper crowded into him, breath hot on his neck right where his mask ended, teeth grazing the point of his pulse, and growled in a lust-thickened voice, "I think some payback is due, don't you?"

Spy couldn't really argue with that.

 

 

* * *

 

At breakfast, Sniper handed him the milk for his coffee, and when Spy thanked him with what he felt was a perfunctory politeness, he noticed the entire kitchen relax in response, like it released the breath he hadn't noticed it was holding.

As he sat delicately, in a chair two seats away from Sniper, Spy glared daggers at all of them over his coffee. While it was… reassuring, he supposed, that being ambushed on base and having his neck broken was no longer a threat, he had a reputation to keep. It didn't bode well that half the RED team were badly hiding smirks and ribbing each other. Soldier even had the nerve to give Sniper a thumbs up when he thought Spy wasn't looking (Spy was always looking).

Their furtive glances made him painfully aware of the bruises all over his skin. Never had he been more grateful that his mask went down his neck and tucked into his suit, leaving nothing uncovered.

More terrifyingly, after breakfast and they were meandering towards the locker room, Engineer made a grab at him again, except this time it was to put an approving hand on his shoulder. Spy shot him a profoundly affronted look, which made Engineer's grip constrict with appreciated hostility, before stomping off.

Soon they were all gathered as the countdown to the day's match began. Spy too sore from the night before to truly enjoy the battle, but he would be efficient all the same. Spy flicked open his silver case and cloaked.

As he was about to pass Sniper, Spy paused in anticipation, but instead of reaching out to where Spy would have been, Sniper's hand did an odd little twitch, then held back. Raising an eyebrow, Spy snuck silently to Sniper's other side, and brushed his fingers over the jut of Sniper's hip. Sniper barely started and didn't falter in his step, but – there it was, the almost imperceptible tick at the corner of his mouth, an undeniable smile.

Hidden from view as he strode onto the battlefield, Spy couldn't resist smiling back.

 

 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an epilogue from sniper's pov.

"Look at _you_." Sniper leaned back against Spy's headboard, whistling low and obnoxiously smug. Unmindful of the splattered cum between them, he ran his palms up Spy's thighs, which were quivering ever so slightly as they bracketed his waist.

Spy arched his back, displaying the marks on his chest for Sniper's hungry gaze, and dipped his chin to the side in a manner that on anyone else would have been demure. "Like what you see?"

With Spy straddling him, his chest close so close to his face, Sniper couldn't see his expression as he spread his fingers across his clavicle, and hooked a thumb under the hem of his mask. He could, however, feel it when Spy's breath hitch, then grew deathly still when he began to hike the mask up. Spy took hold of him, slender fingers circling around his wrists, but he didn't resist otherwise, when Sniper drew the hem of his mask up towards his chin, revealing the delicate column of his throat.

It was more delicate than expected, tendon straining against paper thin skin, broken capillaries marring its surface. There was a thin scar at the base, just before his shoulder began, and this was where Sniper began, swiping his tongue along the scar, then nipping the flesh above it. He felt Spy's throat jump against his cheek as he swallowed thickly.

Carefully, Sniper slid his hand higher so that he was cupping the nape of Spy's neck, musing the wisps of hair there. He pulled back to admire his handiwork. Hickeys trailed up Spy's neck, a winding vine of tiny blossoms, shiny with spit. He grinned at them, before looking back up at Spy, watching the flutter of his eyelashes, the heave of his breath between parted lips.

"I suppose I should be grateful my attire covers everything," Spy murmured, leaning back on his haunches so that he could watch Sniper properly.

"I've not marked everything," Sniper protested. "Not yet."

And with that, Sniper tugged the mask above Spy's chin, the hem rolling up past his mouth, just under his ears. The handsome jut of Spy's jaw had always been prominent through his mask but it was different, seeing it bare. Sniper nuzzled his stubbly jaw line, then kissed him, softly at first, before impatience had him licking into Spy's mouth, and then they were making out furiously.

Spy had to tear himself away, gulping air into his lungs. "I cannot _breathe_ ," he gasped, fingers clamping around Sniper's wrist. The mask had bunched beneath his nose and, damp with sweat, was almost impossible to breath through.

Sniper chuckled low and gruff, then curled both hands in Spy's mask. Tense with anticipation, Spy tilted his head back to give him better access, and Sniper –

He tugged the mask back down to its usual position, once again revealing only Spy's eyes and mouth. Taking Spy's bewildered face in his hands, he smoothed down the creases of his mask, then leaned back in to kiss him.

"You're not –" Spy struggled to get the words out, whining into Sniper's mouth. He gave up speaking all together when Sniper lifted his hips, then lowered him onto his cock.

It was difficult to think inside Spy's tight, excruciating heat, but Sniper moaned and with a wonder in his own voice made him fluster, told him, "You'd let me take it off."

_I want_ you _to take it off_ , he did not say, so Spy didn't take it off. And then Sniper began to thrust in earnest, and the issue was drowned out by the slick slap of skin against skin. Spy gripped Sniper's shoulders brutally, and pushed down into every thrust. When he bit Sniper's throat, Sniper whined, hips stuttering, and spent himself inside Spy, who clenched hard around him. When he came to, Spy was lapping at the bite mark lazily.

"Good?" he asked slyly, lifting himself off Sniper's cock. Cum dribbled between his thighs, and Sniper had to stifle a moan at the sight of it. Instead he took hold of Spy's hips, urged them higher until Spy was kneeling over him, then took him into his mouth. Spy gasped, bucking into that wet heat, a taut bow around Sniper's head. It wasn't long before he cried out shamelessly, and came to pieces under Sniper's tongue. Sniper let go and Spy collapsed back into his lap, thoroughly wrecked, panting against his chest.

They lay together after, sticky and languid between the sheets, Sniper tucked into the curl of Spy's body, breath huffing against his chest. His hair ruffled when Spy lets out a long trembling sigh, and he felt the shifting of his muscles as Spy stretched an arm out towards his own head, shifted atop the pillow, then heaved a sigh of relief. When he brought it back down, his mask was in his fist.

Curiosity rushed through Sniper, and he made to look up and take a peek, but suddenly Spy's arms were like tentacles, wrapping around him and trapping him in the circle of his embrace.

"Lemme see," Sniper complained to Spy's collarbones.

"You said you didn't need to." Spy flung the mask to the side to get a better hold on the squirming man in his arms.

"I don't," Sniper agreed, spreading his palms across Spy's chest, trying to push off from him. "But since you're offering –"

Spy threw a leg across his hips to further pin him down. "You had your chance."

"But I want to see your face!" Sniper thrashed a bit. It was truly impressive, the amount of strength Spy had, when they had only finished mere minutes ago. "I really, _really_ want to."

Spy had the gall to shush him. "I'm trying to sleep. My face will be no less handsome in the morning."

"As if you won't run away when I'm sleeping." Crushed together like this, Sniper swore he could hear Spy's heart thumping a mile a minute, but whether from nerves or the exertion from their grappling, he could not tell.

"I do not _run away_ ," Spy retorted, then paused. "From this." Another pause. "From now onward."

It was enough for Sniper to abandon his struggle "I've been on stake outs lasting days. I can stay up one measly night."

"Am I being hunted now?" Spy mused, muscled frame flexing as if itching for a chase already.

Sniper sighed. They had _just_ been through this. "Do I _need_ to hunt you?"

"Well, I suppose not." Settling down again, Spy pulled Sniper impossibly closer, rubbing circles into his back and lulling him to sleep against his will. Yawning, he murmured, "Good night."

Sniper scoffed, but to his dismay, it sounded more like a chuckle, and utterly fond. "I'll see you in the morning."

 

 

* * *

 

Thanks to the days when Sniper was a proper sniper, who went on hours, _days_ long stake outs, there were really only two ways he slept. One was the fickle sleep while he was hunting, where every turn of the wind, every footstep outside his door or tent, would jostle him awake. The other, and he would sleep like the dead to compensate, never even stirring until he was well and truly rested.

When he woke up with the sun streaming in, butter soft, he knew the night before was the latter. Sure enough, there was cigarette smoke already wafting in the room and covering the smell of sex, and when he reached out across Spy's bed, there was only empty space next to him. He'd missed his opportunity then, and Spy's bare face was once again lost to him, until he next decided to so monumentally lower his guard. For all Sniper knew, that opportunity might never come again.

For a few long minutes, Sniper burrowed back into Spy's decadent sheets, until the residual warmth had disappeared from them. When he finally rolled out to head to the bathroom, his joints creaked in protest, and there was something like childish embarrassment sitting in his stomach.

It was fine, he told himself as he picked up the toothbrush Spy left at his sink for him, if he never saw Spy's face. The mask didn't leave much to imagination anyway, and he'd meant all of what he'd said – he really was curious, but wasn't going to take anything Spy didn't give willingly, and gladly.

Yea, that sounded good. Real level-headed, real mature. Sniper stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed in more ways than one, dried off with Spy's ridiculously fluffy towel then tied it around his waist, and sauntered out to steal a cup of coffee. The caffeine would clear his thoughts.

On his way to the kitchenette, Sniper ran into its door, shoulder whacking into the frame hard enough to bruise. He barely felt it, because he was too busy staring.

Spy stared back, and arched an eyebrow that was very judgemental, and also very much uncovered. Then he turned casually back into his coffee, as though he hadn't sent Sniper's world off kilter. "Are you sure you've woken up?"

"Must still be dreaming," Sniper agreed, voice rough with something aside from sleep. He watched Spy's bare face grimace at the sap, how his blush starts high at the apple of his cheeks, and felt his world slant again. Crossing the space between them in three long strides, he took the mug of coffee that Spy offers him, only to slide it back onto the counter. With something close to reverence, he cupped Spy's face in his hands.

Spy was handsome, certainly, even when he was frowning (pouting) grouchily like that. There was no denying his face was exquisitely sculpted, but it wasn't an otherworldly sort of beauty. It didn't explain the sudden tightness of Sniper's chest, nor how he was suddenly light headed. He fanned his fingertips out, across hollow of his cheeks, the dignified hook of his nose, the tuffs of grey streaked hair sticking out at odd angles from sleep.

"I hope you're happy now," Spy groused. Even his ears were warming beneath Sniper's touch.

Sniper hummed contentedly, nuzzling behind his ear, breathing in the scent of him there that was no longer hidden by laundry detergent then stepped back and released Spy from the cage of his arms. Almost at once, Spy sidled away. Sniper watched fondly as Spy fetched his mask and pulled it on again, that tiny relieved sigh, before he returned sheepishly. Wasn't perfect, what they had, and Spy would always be at least a little skittish, but still.

"I'm pretty happy," Sniper admitted, then drew him into his arms to kiss him sweetly, just because he could.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel the need to apologise for that awful epilogue, but since i'd already written it... anyway, i've written other stuff, hope to finish and post more soon! tumblr [here](http://izazaa.tumblr.com/post/164454731931/date-night-izazaa-crazyground-team-fortress)!


End file.
